Every organism in the world, irrelevant of the species it belongs to, or the realm of environment it inhabits, or even the stage of Darwinian evolution it currently is in, has an underlying instinct to protect its young. Now, the duration of this care varies from creature to creature, but the intensity remains more or less the same. This obligation of an animal to take care of its off-springs is seen most powerfully as the maternal instinct. The mother is naturally very protective of her children. In primitive beings, this maternal protective quality can expand to include severe aggression, when it involves the distress of her children. While my mother is a paragon of this unconditional love and care (as are their moms for every other person on this planet), this aegis feature can be particularly seen, with undying strength, in canines.
Yes. Dogs. Man's best friend has apparently learnt from us the divine gift, that is children, and how to protect and care for them. Or have we learnt from them? Doesn't matter. I say this, because I've recently been observing a small family of stray dogs that live in and around my neighbourhood and the adjacent compounds. One mother dog, taking care of its two pups. You can almost relate it to the impecunious scenario of a single mother, struggling to raise her bickering children in an hardened neighbourhood, where homelessness and poverty are looked down upon rather than helped to overcome. What follows is a imaginative piece on how a day in her life must be like.
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For her, every night is a light slumber. She never sleeps deeply. She can't afford to. Her pups were too precious to her. She feels them moving by her side, rested and content. They always get up earlier than she does. She grunts a permission for them to go ahead and play. Slowly, she too gets up, her knees unsteady beneath the weight of her emaciated body. The perils of old age. It was still dark, but she knew that daylight would come soon. And with that, the people living within the tall walls, behind the cold metal gates. The cruel ones who hurt her, shunned her, spit on her and scared her. She had learnt from experience never to be in stone's throw of a human. It was a life-lesson she wanted to pass onto her children before long. She could see them playing with each other, rolling on the ground, frolicking without a care in the world. She stood there for a minute, watching sadly, and then strengthened herself for the burdens of the day ahead. She would get through it, but only for her children.
Some days, they would have no food. Some days, they would starve. Some days, the food would be too meagre for all three, so she would let them eat it, because they were what was most important to her. But today, they were in luck. Someone had thrown left-overs onto the side of the road, and this was a feast to them. When they had their fill, they would begin their roams. They usually stuck to familiar territory. By noon, they would begin a drudging reconnaissance of the whole neighbourhood, searching for water or food. Usually they could find water at the bottom of the gutter, just a few lap-ups of it, but they had to make do. Then she would spend most her afternoons resting by the side of the road, while her pups roamed about the compound. They knew never to go too far without her accompanying them.
By evening, she would get up again, rustling her dirty pockmarked fur. The nights got cold, so they would have to find a place warm enough before nightfall. Their usual spot was the neglected car-shed a few yards away, but today the cruel people in the adjacent building threw stones and shooed them away. They would have to find another place now. It was late into the night when they finally bedded down beneath a parked car. It was dangerous, but it was the only way to avoid freezing to death. The kids, still oblivious to the pain their mother lived through everyday, playfully roll about underneath the car. She lays down, and gives a low grunt, summoning them to stop play and settle down. They run to their mother, tongues lolling, and nudges closer to the warmth of her body, each one vying for her attention. She lifts her head to sniff them (an acknowledgement), gives them a lick of her tongue (a goodnight kiss), and the pups gradually stop their restless motion to calm down. She lies back down, her eyes glistening. She knows tomorrow would be another day of difficulties, filled with new obstacles and hurdles. But right now, she forgets all that, as she closes her eyes, and, listening to her babies' slow breaths, gently drifts off to sleep.
Yes. Dogs. Man's best friend has apparently learnt from us the divine gift, that is children, and how to protect and care for them. Or have we learnt from them? Doesn't matter. I say this, because I've recently been observing a small family of stray dogs that live in and around my neighbourhood and the adjacent compounds. One mother dog, taking care of its two pups. You can almost relate it to the impecunious scenario of a single mother, struggling to raise her bickering children in an hardened neighbourhood, where homelessness and poverty are looked down upon rather than helped to overcome. What follows is a imaginative piece on how a day in her life must be like.
******
For her, every night is a light slumber. She never sleeps deeply. She can't afford to. Her pups were too precious to her. She feels them moving by her side, rested and content. They always get up earlier than she does. She grunts a permission for them to go ahead and play. Slowly, she too gets up, her knees unsteady beneath the weight of her emaciated body. The perils of old age. It was still dark, but she knew that daylight would come soon. And with that, the people living within the tall walls, behind the cold metal gates. The cruel ones who hurt her, shunned her, spit on her and scared her. She had learnt from experience never to be in stone's throw of a human. It was a life-lesson she wanted to pass onto her children before long. She could see them playing with each other, rolling on the ground, frolicking without a care in the world. She stood there for a minute, watching sadly, and then strengthened herself for the burdens of the day ahead. She would get through it, but only for her children.
Some days, they would have no food. Some days, they would starve. Some days, the food would be too meagre for all three, so she would let them eat it, because they were what was most important to her. But today, they were in luck. Someone had thrown left-overs onto the side of the road, and this was a feast to them. When they had their fill, they would begin their roams. They usually stuck to familiar territory. By noon, they would begin a drudging reconnaissance of the whole neighbourhood, searching for water or food. Usually they could find water at the bottom of the gutter, just a few lap-ups of it, but they had to make do. Then she would spend most her afternoons resting by the side of the road, while her pups roamed about the compound. They knew never to go too far without her accompanying them.
By evening, she would get up again, rustling her dirty pockmarked fur. The nights got cold, so they would have to find a place warm enough before nightfall. Their usual spot was the neglected car-shed a few yards away, but today the cruel people in the adjacent building threw stones and shooed them away. They would have to find another place now. It was late into the night when they finally bedded down beneath a parked car. It was dangerous, but it was the only way to avoid freezing to death. The kids, still oblivious to the pain their mother lived through everyday, playfully roll about underneath the car. She lays down, and gives a low grunt, summoning them to stop play and settle down. They run to their mother, tongues lolling, and nudges closer to the warmth of her body, each one vying for her attention. She lifts her head to sniff them (an acknowledgement), gives them a lick of her tongue (a goodnight kiss), and the pups gradually stop their restless motion to calm down. She lies back down, her eyes glistening. She knows tomorrow would be another day of difficulties, filled with new obstacles and hurdles. But right now, she forgets all that, as she closes her eyes, and, listening to her babies' slow breaths, gently drifts off to sleep.
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